


Pitter-Patter

by ScarletOnyxx



Series: Under My Roof [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Baby!Jim, M/M, Parent!lock
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-10-03
Updated: 2013-10-03
Packaged: 2017-12-28 07:30:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,260
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/989380
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ScarletOnyxx/pseuds/ScarletOnyxx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John wants children and tries to convince Sherlock he wants children too. What happens when they adopt a five-year-old Jim Moriarty? In this fic John and Sherlock are in their late twenties.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

John Watson was not a fearful man. His teammates in the army had even described him as brave, and having faced death on multiple occasions, he certainly did not fear confrontation. Now, however, he feared the result.

They were sitting on the couch. John had made tea, and Sherlock was resting his head on his shoulder. Almost two and a half years had passed ever since they got together for real. And even though John knew it was way too soon, he had gathered the courage to confront the detective.

“Sherlock,” he finally said after several minutes of comfortable silence, “don’t you ever feel like something is missing?”

The detective’s eyes narrowed as he turned his head to look at him. “Not particularly, no.”

“Well, don’t you think this flat is awfully quiet sometimes?”

“Quite the opposite, in fact. According to Mrs. Hudson, that is.”

“How do I put this… Can you imagine hearing the pitter-patter of little feet on the floor?”

Sherlock stared at him blankly.

“Pitter-patter?” he said.

Despite the detective’s unusual brightness, he could be unbelievable dim at times.

“Yes, pitter-patter.”

“I’m afraid I don’t—“

John sighed. He rested his hand on Sherlock’s knees and looked him in the eyes.

“I want children, Sherlock.”

Shock had a strange way to manifest itself in the consulting detective. Rarely did he ever reveal any such emotion, and now his face had gotten completely unreadable. John waited patiently as this new information sunk in. Sherlock rose to his feet.

“An absurd idea.” He shook his head.

John grimaced. He had not expected this to be easy.

“I knew you wouldn’t be too keen to the idea, but consider the benefits.”

“Of what? Having a baby? I can’t imagine the fuss; children are loud, noisy, messy, and extremely annoying. I understand some people find them to be ‘cute’ at first sight and decide to become parents. But they regret this when in the middle of the night they are woken by a screaming child. Babies are time-consuming, stress-evoking, and out of the question! So I ask you, John, what benefits?”

“It doesn’t have to be a baby,” John persisted, “In fact, since most people adopt them as young as possible, going for a slightly older child might be a good idea.”

“At least when they are babies, they are incapable of trashing the flat completely. Someone older would cause even bigger problems, I assure you. We do not have the time for a child, no matter the age. You have your job, and you join me on cases. Where does a child fit in that calculation? Absurd. How this idea even occurred to you, I can’t imagine.”

“Mrs. Hudson would be able to take care of it whenever we are gone on a case,” John protested, “and in the gaps between cases, there would be something, someone, to occupy you and prevent you from getting bored and demolish the flat yourself.”

“Rubbish. I don’t see how a child could keep my attention. They are unintelligent and uninteresting.”

“Well, so am I.”

“What?”

“Unintelligent, as you haven’t refrained from emphasizing on several occasions. And uninteresting, boring, _ordinary_ John.”

“John, —“

“And because I am so ordinary, I actually do want children. That might bring a sense of normalcy to our lives, if such thing is possible. And I would have somebody to take care of, someone who is not an adult,” John added.

“John, don’t be —“

“No, Sherlock, just… just think about it, will you? That’s all I’m asking. Think and consider; you might surprise yourself.”

And with that, John stood. He was not angry, but he needed to leave the flat for a little while.

“I’m going out to buy milk.”

When John bought milk, he usually took no longer than fifteen-twenty minutes. Sherlock did not fail to notice that he had been gone for almost forty. He huffed and slumped down in his armchair. Silly, illogical John! Introducing an idea like that just when they were having a nice time together. A child? Really? He shook his head, and picked up the violin. The precise tunes carried his mind to alien places that involved no thoughts of children.

John finally returned, and they did not speak of it for the rest of the evening. Or the next. Or the one after that.

A week passed.

They were going for a walk in the park. John heard someone laugh merrily and spotted a mother wiping away ice cream from her child’s face. He watched them for a little while and then sighed. Out of his peripheral vision he saw Sherlock keeping an eye on him.

“Sherlock, have you considered what I said?” John said that same evening, deciding he could wait no longer.

“Oh please, are you bringing _that_ up again? I am busy with cases and cannot bother caring for your trifles.”

“Is that all this is to you?” John said, his voice surprisingly steady. “All I am? Nothing of importance? It actually matters to me.”

“My mind is occupied with thinking, John. I cannot afford to become distracted.”

“I’m talking about starting a _family_ , Sherlock!”

“Then go start a family somewhere else. Not interested.”

“Well, maybe I will. Since you don’t care.”

John stood.

“I’m sorry,” he said, “I need to go… to bed. Now.”

And with that he walked out of the room.

John was lying in bed, on the verge of sleep, when he heard Sherlock enter the room. The detective crawled into bed, on top of the covers. Perhaps he had decided to not go yet another night without rest.

“John,” he whispered.

The doctor grunted and buried his head in the pillow. Whatever cases his flatmate wanted to discuss could and would wait until the morning, surely Sherlock understood.

“John.”

Apparently not.

“Mtrying tsleep, Shhlock.” John mumbled, clinging to the hope of being left to sleep.

“John… I… John.”

“What _is_ it, Sherlock?”

“I’m afraid.”

John opened his eyes and slowly propped himself up on his elbow. Sherlock was sitting next to him, legs crossed, staring at his hands.

“The thought of having a child… it scares me. I am not used to dealing with worry and fear, John. I don’t know what to do. I’m afraid I can’t… I can’t take care of a child. What if…” His voiced lowered to a whisper. “What if it gets hurt. Because of me. Because I fail to take caution.”

John moved to rest a hand on his lovers back, soothing him. The idea that Sherlock’s opposition to having children was because of fear of not being able to take care of them made the army doctor feel a little relieved.

“For a man whose mind is so incredibly extraordinary,“ John said, “you can be quite incredulous when you doubt your abilities.”

Sherlock looked up from his hands questioningly.

“Being a parent is never easy. Not for anyone. But that your concern is for the wellbeing of the child and not your own convenience means your intentions are good. I know you don’t deal well with emotions; you reject them, but you still have them. Don’t be afraid of admitting them or talking to me about them. So please, Sherlock, tell me what you think of this idea of having children together.”

“I had thought about it before. But I never knew that you, also, wanted…”

John grabbed his hand and looked him in the eyes.

“If you aren’t ready, then you aren’t ready,” he said, “I understand. We shouldn’t rush into anything. But if you are hesitant because you doubt yourself, then I don’t want that to hold you back. Because regardless of what you believe, I know you’ll be a great parent. I know it’s maybe too soon; it’s just that I can see our future together. I want to start a family with you, because it’d be with you. Nobody else.”

They stared into each other’s eyes for a little while. Then Sherlock hugged him close to his body.

“Yes, let’s have children,” he said. John blinked. He had not expected the detective to agree so soon. “I love you.”

“I love you too, Sherlock. But maybe —”

Sherlock let go of him and grabbed his hands instead.

“How do we do it? Should we adopt? Let’s adopt. And soon.”

“Sherlock, this is a hasty decision, and it’s a big one. A child would change our lives, and would you want that? I know where I stand on the issue, but maybe you should consider it a bit before —“

“No,” Sherlock interrupted, “I want children, and to be a parent, and for you to be a parent. I want a family. I want the two of us to be the three of us.”

“Okay,” John said, his voice suddenly hoarse, “Okay, let us do it. We’ll adopt.”

“Yes.”

“We can visit the orphanage —“

“Tomorrow,” Sherlock added.

“Sherlock, that’s —“

Sherlock looked at him sternly.

“Alright, tomorrow,” John complied, sighing as his lover looked pleased, “And we’ll just go take a look, visit some of the children. If there’s a child you feel comfortable with, we’ll look into this whole adopting business a bit more. If not, then we’ll just go some other place another time. Sounds good, yeah?”

Sherlock nodded.

“Goodnight, John.”

“’Night, Sherlock. And please, now let me get some rest.”


	2. Chapter 2

The orphanage was located a mere one and a half hour’s drive from London. It was an old building, quite large, with children playing loudly outside. John pulled to the side, he and Sherlock got out of the car, and they opened the gate and entered.

_Dartmoor Orphanage_

_All visitors please report to Mr. Burns._

The two of them went inside, passed the running children in the halls, and went into an office. A man was sitting by the desk, sorting papers. He looked up from his round glasses and spotted the couple waiting by the door.

“Oh, my apologies,” he said as he rose from his chair and extended his hand toward the doctor and the detective, “I am Anton Burns. My wife and I are in charge of the orphanage.”

“John Watson,” John said as he shook the offered hand. Sherlock studied the man, eyes narrowing.

“Your wife, you say? Interesting, it appears that — ouch!”

“Not now, Sherlock!” John hissed quietly while Sherlock rubbed the place where his lover had elbowed him. “Mr. Burns, my partner and I are here because we have considered adoption.”

“Ah, splendid, splendid. Here, let me show you around the orphanage, tell you a little about the place, introduce you to the children. And if you have any questions, any at all, do not hesitate to ask me.”

“I have one,” Sherlock said, “Gay or bisexual? — Ouch! John, stop that!”

“Sorry,” John said and smiled at the confused Burns, “please excuse him. Yes, we’d like to be shown around, thank you.”

“These are the classrooms where we educate the children over the age of six,” Mr. Burns said, as they passed the small school within the building.

A bell rang and John watched the children leap from their chairs and run into the hallway. Some of them caught sight of Burns and slowed their pace shortly to tell him good afternoon before speeding up again.

“Lunchtime,” Burns explained with a smile.

A ten-year-old girl stopped up and eyed Sherlock warily for a moment. Then she hurried away. John giggled a little at Sherlock’s frown.

They continued to the main hall where children in many ages were noisily gathering at the tables. Burns turned around to face the two men.

“If you wish to,” he said, “you can join us for lunch. I’ll introduce you to the staff and my wife, and we’ll answer all your questions.”

“That would be our pleasure.”

There were three main tables divided by age and the adult table placed to the side. The faculty mainly consisted of women, but there were three other men besides Burns.

“Are you here to adopt?” a woman asked them, smiling as she did so.

“Well, we are certainly considering it,” John said.

“You must have questions.”

“Loads. We’d like if any of you could give us some advice on adopting and raising children in general.”

“Of course. If you are not adopting a baby, it is very important to help them adjust to their new life with you. Some children experience difficulty fitting in, so it’s vital to make them feel as comfortable around you as possible.”

“Right.”

“Oh, and make sure not to over-decorate the nursery,” a man added, “since this may be too overwhelming for the child.”

“How about the adoption procedures?” Sherlock asked, “What requirements do we need to fulfill?”

“It’s quite simple,” Mr. Burns said, “When you decide you wish to adopt, whether you have a specific child in mind or not, we visit you at home for an interview. This is to make sure the child is safe with you. We have you fill in a form wherein you state your names, occupations, telephone numbers, etc. And in certain cases we also talk with your family members, friends, or acquaintances. Then we help you manage all legal documents to ensure your title as parents. Meanwhile you may visit the child in question to establish a closer relationship with him or her.”

“That seems fair,” John said. “How do we choose a child to adopt?”

“Well, that depends on the situation. After lunch I will introduce you to some of the children. Not that you have to choose one of them right away, but I’d advise you to talk to them and play with them. By establishing this connection, it will be easier to find out who fits into your family.”

“That makes sense.”

“So what if they do not want to be adopted by us?” Sherlock asked.

“Well, that is a rare occurrence,” the woman from before said. “Most children are happy to be adopted. Of course moving into a new home may seem scary, but if you have already established a connection with the child, they will eventually feel at ease with you.”

“If the child for some reason absolutely resents you, then, well, you might reconsider adopting it,” the man intervened.

“And remember a relationship will take time to build.”

“And find out about your child’s background.”

“Ask, but don’t pry.”

“And spend time with them. Let them have a say in what you are doing as a family.”

“And remember to love them.”

“Yes, over-shower them with your love. But don’t be overly protective.”

John could feel a grin spreading across his face, as though his skin was about to crack from the sheer force of the excitement that now began to fill him. Sherlock leaned in to John.

“It seems so much more real, now,” he said, and John agreed.

They kept discussing the details of adoption and raising children, and nearing the end of the lunch hour, another person appeared from the corridor.

As she joined the table, Burns introduced her as his wife. She was a woman with frizzy, strawberry-blonde hair. John shook her hand.

Smilingly, she said, “Are you brothers?”

John saw his own astonished expression mirrored on Sherlock’s face. Brothers? They looked nothing alike.

“Uhm, no,” he said, “no, we’re not.”

“Cousins?” She kept on smiling.

Mr. Burns cleared his throat.

“Claire, they, uh,” he said, “they’re together.”

She looked at him incredulously.

“What do you mean?”

“Sherlock is my partner in life,” John said, “A bit like you and your husband, even though we aren’t married.”

“But… two men?”

John was about to explain it to her, but then he saw Sherlock’s expression. He was smiling, and it was not in a friendly way.

“Mrs. Burns,” the detective said, “you see, I simply find John here irresistible. If we weren’t surrounded by innocent eyes, I would simply take him right here.”

“Sherlock!” John screeched, shocked.

“Oh, please. Like you wouldn’t enjoy it.”

The whole table fell silent, and John’s face turned a frighteningly deep shade of red. So did Mr. Burns’.

“Touché,” said Sherlock and raised his glass, before taking a sip of his drink.

Mr. Burns cleared his throat.

“It seems lunch is over. I’d better take the two of you… away… to finish your tour.”

He stood from the table as fast as he could, and John was quick to follow his example. Sherlock raised his eyebrow, but followed suit shortly after. The three of them walked among the many children clearing their plates, and they were soon in the corridor.

“Mr. Burns, I… I’m terribly sorry,” John said, feeling an urgent need to apologize. “That was entirely inappropriate, and we would never, ever say or do something like that in front of a child.” He buried his face in his hand. “I can’t _believe_ you said that, Sherlock!” He hissed under his breath.

“Relax, John.” And then to Burns, “I hope you understood why I said it.”

“Yes, yes, I understood,” Burns said, clearly uncomfortable. “I don’t blame you. My wife is not entirely well-informed in that area.”

“Obviously. Otherwise she would have noticed,” Sherlock said. Burns gave him a strange look.

“I am going to continue with your tour, but please,” said Burns, “don’t mention any of that to the other children. Not that I expect you to.”

“No, no, of course not,” John said, the red color starting to fade from his cheeks.

They continued down the corridor, children running to and fro. They reached a series of decent-sized rooms filled with little children playing with toys, drawing, and watching children’s shows on the television.

“Here’s where our younger children are, those who have not yet started in school. Do you have any idea what age you want to adopt?”

Sherlock looked at John, a puzzled expression on his face, as though he did not know what to say to that.

“No, we haven’t considered it at all,” John said.

“Alright. I’ll just show you around the different places. Let’s stop in here for a moment. Most of our children are very — Danny! What’s the matter?”

A child, who could be no more than four years old, ran out to Burns, tears streaming from his eyes.

“It’s Jimmy!” the boy cried loudly, “he’s being mean!”

“Jimmy? What has he done now?”

But the boy did not answer, too choked up in tears.

“Jim? Come here! JIM MORIARTY!” Burns roared. Danny clung to his leg.

“Yes?”

A boy stepped out from the room. He was short, dark-haired, and had black eyes that looked incredibly large in his childish face. He looked approximately four years of age.

“What have you done this time? I demand an explanation!”

“I made Danny cry.”

“That is nothing to be proud of!” Burns suddenly looked up at the doctor and consulting detective. “I’m sorry.”

“No problem,” John said. Sherlock remained silent. The boy looked up at the pair, only noticing them now. He folded his hands behind his back.

“I stole his teddy bear and gave him a choice. He could destroy his toy cars or watch me rip his teddy apart.”

Burns looked shocked.

“Why on earth did you do that?” he asked.

The boy shrugged.

“I don’t know,” he said, “it was boring, anyway.” He turned and looked directly up at the two of them.

John was stunned by the mindset of this boy. What a destructive child, he thought. He wanted to voice his opinion to his partner, and turned to him. That’s when he noticed the look on Sherlock’s face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I will attempt to update this regularly, but I might fail horribly at that. However, I will update.


End file.
